of Bureaucrats

January 29, 2012

So,

For those that might have seen “The Adjustment Bureau”, an amusing little movie in which Matt Damon portrays a Man who meets his soul mate but who’s fate is thwarted by the Universe’s stewards of fate. Supposedly, Angelic bureaucrats in suits and hats that keep us all on our own tracks of destiny, they carry out various means of subterfuge to ensure certain paths are kept to and that others are not crossed. Doors that inexplicably close, things that appear randomly to block your way, objects that fall from your hands and make you stoop and possibly miss the passing of another etc etc.
They can also, if inclined, just ‘cuz…fuck with you.
I gotta say, after watching that movie, I am now forever wondering if I am not a pet project or favourite pastime of those bastards in the funny lil hats, when they’re bored. Just ‘cuz.
At the risk of sounding “woe is me”, my life seems to be inordinately lopsided with “butter side down” occasion.
So much so that I have chanced to impress an unbeliever with it’s predictability, leaving her with an “Wow, you’re not kidding” posture after having been presented with multiple scenarios with two possible outcomes and the frequency that mine will invariably be the most troublesome or tedious.
If pressed and having to choose from a set of just two keys to unlock a door…I have yet to pick the right one on the first attempt. Rope or wire entangles in ways that could NEVER be replicated in need. Things get caught on other things that are so improbable that I couldn’t ever hope to do on purpose if my very life was held in the balance. Things spill from my hands at the most inopportune times and if of the paper variety, the wind will suddenly pick up to have me perform ritualistic dance to retrieve it.
This is well beyond the confines of Murphy’s law, this is the hand of Providence.
I used to think, hope, it was God trying to teach me patience, and perhaps He felt as frustrated in the results, but now I think I am the plaything of celestial dickheads in a cafeteria lunchroom.
Get a life!
Of course, I have tried the reverse. To anticipate my first intuition and suddenly turn and pick the other. I can almost hear the laughter above at my silly, futile attempts…I still ALWAYS grab the wrong shoe, in the dark.
Crafts or projects are the worse and seem to be a particular focus for my cherubic companions. The simplest of tasks are made impossible by the breaking of tools or unexplainable failing of software.
A different tool, another approach…forget it. No matter what I try, once the shift is in place, it’s a debacle.
So, short of my wanting a private “chat” with one (Matt get’s his!!) or just begging they leave off for a minute, I fear I am destined to be at the tender mercies of bureaucrats, both at home, work and…above.
Ok, I can deal but seriously?…shit gets old.
Don’t ask me to change your oil…you’ll regret it, trust me.

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